


Weirdos Who Care

by rikyl



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Episode: Ron and Tammy Part 2, F/M, Season 3, my first fic so beware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikyl/pseuds/rikyl
Summary: Ben and Leslie go out for a bite to eat after sparring about calzones. Picks up right at the end of Ron and Tammy Part 2.





	1. Chapter 1

When they got to the parking lot, Leslie turned around to find out, for real this time, where he wanted to eat. “JJ’s maybe? Or if you’re in the mood for something more exotic, we could pick up some burritos …”

 

Ben frowned slightly and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I was thinking, how about that restaurant where Ann and Chris went on their first date? I’ll buy. I just really don’t get many good meals while I’m on the road.” Why did he look nervous? Or was that just how Ben looks? She wasn’t sure, but for a fleeting second she wondered if she might have misunderstood his intentions when he asked her to dinner … no, couldn’t be. It was just two colleagues getting a bite to eat after work, and it was like he said, he just wanted some good food.

 

Still, the atmosphere had somehow shifted away from the easy banter they had enjoyed in her office just a few moments before, and her throat was tight and her smile felt unnatural when she answered, “Sure.” He smiled awkwardly and gestured toward his car, and suddenly she felt like maybe this wasn’t a very good idea after all.

 

As they drove the short distance, they didn’t say much, and Ben fumbled with the radio until he settled on a classic rock station. As the last notes of “Sweet Home Alabama” faded out, suddenly Billy Joel started belting “Tell Her About It.” Leslie glanced over at Ben and caught him looking at the car radio like it had betrayed him. She laughed, but it came out more like a snort. “What, you don’t like this one?”

 

“Kind of cheesy,” Ben mumbled, and he punched the radio off. Luckily they had arrived.

 

When they got inside, a maitre d’ said it would be just a minute until their table was ready. Ben turned back toward her, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling from one foot to the other again. He rolled his eyes and smiled sheepishly at her. “Thanks for coming with me. Usually if I venture outside my motel room, I just take a book, but it’s nice to have company.”

 

“Of course,” she said, and tried to smile back at him. Why weren’t her facial muscles working correctly? Get it together, Leslie.

 

If only he weren’t so good looking. Wait, what? It wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed he was attractive before—tall, with all that dark hair, and pretty brown eyes—who wouldn’t notice? But there was a difference between knowing someone’s attractive and actually being attracted to him. When had she crossed that line?

 

For the first time she noticed what he was wearing that day, a blue-and-orange plaid shirt with a dark tie. It was goofy, but somehow it worked for him. She pictured him at a store, disregarding all the usual bland colors of men’s dress shirts and picking that shirt up. Briefly, the image made her feel more confident—like, if he could pick a shirt like that, maybe he would actually pick a girl like her? Her heart lurched. Was that what she wanted?

 

Suddenly, the maitre d’ was leading them to a table, and Leslie felt her usual first-date panic rising inside of her. Was this a date? Did she want this to be a date?

 

This, whatever it was, was a disaster.

 

They were at the table, but Leslie hesitated before sitting down, unable to make herself commit to this train wreck in waiting, and she felt Ben’s hand lightly touch her back. It gave her goosebumps. “Leslie, are you okay?” He looked really worried.

 

She tried to pull herself together. “Yes, of course, I just … restaurants make me nervous sometimes is all,” she managed. “I’ve had some bad experiences.”

 

He looked more and more uncertain. “Um, well, try to relax. It’s just a place to eat food, right?”

 

“Right,” she agreed. They looked at the menus and ordered, which bought them a few minutes of having something else to do besides interact. Then the waitress left, the food hadn’t arrived, and there was nothing between them but the table. Ben was drumming his fingers lightly on the surface, eyes darting between the tablecloth and her. A few times he drew in a breath like he might say something, but nothing came. Was he nervous for some reason? Or just miserable? She had to do something.

 

“I wish I had some notecards,” she said.

 

He looked puzzled. “What, so we could work?”

 

“No, it’s just …” She trailed off, unable to explain to him that she uses notecards to get through first dates, because this obviously wasn’t a date. That was all in her head. Right? She wished she could ask him what he was thinking. Instead, she blurted, “What do you think of whales?” Whales?

 

He still looked uncertain, but the corners of his mouth bent upward into that familiar smirk. “What, to eat?”

 

“No, what? No, just to … you know, whales. Like, in the ocean.”

 

Now he just looked helpless. “Leslie, I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

 

“Forget it. I was just trying to introduce a topic of conversation.”

 

“Oh, right,” he said, and uncomfortable silence fell between them again.

 

The way he looked just then, Leslie wondered if he wanted to leave. She started trying to think of excuses to cut out early. I have to wash my hair. No, that’s what everyone says. I have to feed my goldfish. Leslie didn’t have any pets. I have to feed Ann’s goldfish. Why, where was Ann? At her aunt’s, because her aunt is sick. She should try to be specific to make it more convincing. Ann’s aunt had to have her leg amputated. Wait, what?

 

Just then, the food arrived. Ben looked at it and laughed. “We got the same thing. I didn’t even notice that when we were ordering.”

 

“I love butternut squash soup,” Leslie exclaimed. “My mom used to make it this time of year.”

 

“It tastes like fall,” Ben said quietly. “All crisp air and crunchy leaves. I mean, it doesn’t actually taste like leaves. But that’s what it makes me think of.”

 

“Me too,” Leslie said, and suddenly they were smiling at each other, a little shyly, but it didn’t feel so awkward.

 

“Oh, oh,” Leslie said, suddenly feeling like she remembered how to have a conversation. “You said you read. I mean, you said you usually bring a book. What are you reading?”

 

“Um, well, just re-reading really. I wasn’t able to get a library card in Pawnee, so …”

 

She cut him off and looked at him in shock. “Wait, wait. You what? Why did you want a library card?”

 

Ben laughed at her. “That’s where people get books, Leslie. If I’m staying somewhere long enough, I try to get a temporary library card … some towns will let me do that. But Pawnee took one look at me and practically expelled me from the premises.”

 

“Yeah, you should probably be grateful for that. You really dodged a bullet there.”

 

“So I hear,” Ben said and shifted in his seat. “Right now I’m re-reading one of my old favorites. It’s called Ender’s Game. Science fiction.”

 

“Oh,” she said, unconsciously wrinkling her nose.

 

“No, it’s … I think you might like it,” he said, and his voice was earnest, like he really cared what she thought. “It’s basically … well, it’s about a boy who has to save the world.”

 

“Oh,” she said again, but this time she actually was interested. She suddenly wanted to read it, to find out why Ben would like a book like that. But how … would she have to get a library card? Could she ask Ben to loan it to her?

 

But Ben looked a little embarrassed at having brought it up. “Well, anyway,” he mumbled and changed the subject. “So … it’s been a crazy week, hasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” Leslie agreed and laughed. “Ron and Tammy … well, I don’t even know what to say about them. Just, sorry you had to see that.”

 

Ben shrugged. “Must be nice, though.”

 

“What, nice?” Leslie had the image of Ron in his kimono and cornrows and shuddered.

 

Ben laughed again. “Well, not the craziness and the wardrobe and the, well, violence,” he clarified. “I mean … having your life so entwined with someone. To have someone who can have that kind of effect on you. At least you’d know you’re alive, right?”

 

He looked serious and wistful for a moment, then turned flustered and embarrassed again. He started focusing intently on his last few bites of soup and picking at his bread.

 

And Leslie just gazed at him in wonder. It reminded her of what he had said about the people at the public forum for the time capsule—the thing about “weirdos who care.” Was he always like that, able to see the good in all of life’s messiness? She felt an overwhelming warmth toward him, and it wasn’t just attraction; it felt like the beginnings of something … something significant.

 

He finally glanced up to find her staring at him and looked severely uncomfortable, so Leslie tore her gaze away. Maybe he had misinterpreted her stare, or maybe he didn’t want her to look at him like that. She wished, for the umpteenth time that night, that she could just ask him what he was thinking.

 

It seemed like there were dozens of questions she wanted to ask him all the sudden: Had he ever felt that strongly about someone, like, their lives were entwined? When was the last time he felt alive? Had someone hurt him along the way? Was he lonely, moving from town to town, so far from home, finding his only solace in library books? Seriously—library books?

 

Why did he care whether she’d like a book about a boy who had to save the world?

 

She wanted to take him home and tell him it could be his home too. That she could be his home. She wanted to reach over and touch his hand, gently silence those fingers that once again were drumming nervously on the table.

 

But she didn’t touch his hand, and she didn’t say anything. How could she? Those would be weird things to say to a colleague, and she couldn’t tell if Ben wanted to be more. Sometimes it seemed like … but she couldn’t quite tell … and anyway, she needed more than one dinner’s worth of awkward bumbling to figure out her own feelings before putting those kinds of cards on the table.

 

When the waitress came back with the bill, he dropped some bills on the table and started to push his chair back. “Are you done? It’s getting late. We should probably get back.” And when he looked at her finally, it was like the wall had gone up again, and he was so far behind it, she wondered all over again if she had imagined the whole thing.

 

The second car ride was worse than the first. Because before dinner, the awkwardness had a bright edge of hope to it. Or at least, she thought it had. And now, the silence held the tinge of finality. Like, they had tried something, and it hadn’t worked, and that was that. She winced. Maybe she had been the only one who had been trying anything, and he had just been killing time until the next town.

 

He opened his door and got out at the same time that she did, even though he was just dropping her off. Then he stood there and looked at her over the top of the car. She mustered a smile and said, “Good night, Ben,” and made herself turn away.

 

“Leslie,” he called. She spun around, and he hadn’t moved. She waited, unable to make out the expression on his face in the dark. “Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally said. Then he ducked his head down, got in his car, and drove away.

 

She had trouble sleeping that night, feeling like she might have somehow lost something that she had never had, or never even had realized that she wanted. She tossed and turned as different snippets of Ben floated in and out of her head.

 

In her dreams, he was tossing a pumpkin to her. He was leaning in close at a public forum and talking about “weirdos who care.” He was standing in the doorway of her hospital room with waffles and soup. Homemade soup.

 

He was smiling at her in that soft way that made his eyes shine. He was yelling at her—or caring loudly at her? He was asking her out for a beer and confiding his secret past. He was talking about responsibility and running for office. He was touching her shoulders and steadying her after her feverish Chamber of Commerce speech.

 

He was looking at spreadsheets. He was talking about firing her friends. He was looking at her with the brief hint of a proud smile, a raised eyebrow, when she showed him her plan to cut 35 percent of the parks budget.

 

He was shutting down her government. But he was staying around to help. And then, because this was a dream, he was kissing her. And then he was pushing her away.

 

The next morning she didn’t know how to be around him, so she made fun of him for being a “numbers robot.” It came out harsher than she meant, and she regretted it instantly. She desperately needed someone to talk to, but the day was so busy, and Ann wasn’t around, so she found herself letting things slip to—of all people—Shauna Malwae-Tweep. That perky 25-year-old would probably use Leslie’s words to humiliate her in the press and then go after Ben herself. Oh, God, would he go for someone like that?

 

And then, Ben. Ben, well. She couldn’t understand why, but her ally in the Harvest Festival, the guy she had come to depend on more than anyone else in her department—professionally—had begun a spectacular and very public meltdown. It just didn’t make sense.

 

He had always been a bit awkward, but he was good at his job, and he never seemed to have a problem being professional and … coherent, for goodness sake. Was it really possible that being asked about his time as mayor could have that drastic an effect on him, after all these years? He had seemed fine telling her about it over beers a few months ago.

 

What had changed? It was almost like he was one person one day, and then something happened, and he had turned into this total basketcase overnight. But as far as she could tell, nothing had happened except one very awkward date, er, dinner, between colleagues, and …

 

Well, she was feeling a bit of a basketcase herself after that, so …

 

It was almost like ... it was almost ...

 

No. That was ridiculous. She shoved the idea out of her head and went back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was setting on the Harvest Festival, and Ben finally found himself alone, without a single thing to do. Since before sunrise, he had been working his ass off, setting up stages and carnival rides, taking tickets, feeding petting zoo animals, really throwing himself at anything that needed to be done. He had managed to keep up that pace for weeks, telling himself it was about doing a good job or providing a service. And of course that was partly true—it was important to Leslie, and it was important to Pawnee, and so it was important to him. But if he was being honest, he was really grateful for the distraction.

 

Because when he had a free moment, he got to thinking, and that led nowhere good. Ever since he had taken Leslie out to dinner a few weeks back, things had been off between them. And he still couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong that night. He wavered between feeling like he had totally blown it and thinking he just needed another chance to show her how he felt. But with only days left in Pawnee, he was quickly running out of chances.

 

Feeling melancholy, he headed over to the beer tent, acquired a Miller Lite, and then found a secluded tree to lean against. It was on a bit of a hill, and from there he could see most of the festival. In the distance, he could hear children laughing and some loud feedback as Mouse Rat did a sound check.

 

“Mind if I pull up a patch of grass?” a voice suddenly said from beside him. For a moment he thought it might be Leslie, and his heart skipped a beat. But he looked up to see her friend Ann, who was also nursing a beer.

 

“Sure, why not,” he said, trying not to show his disappointment. “I could use a drinking buddy.”

 

She sat down, clinking her bottle against his, and they sipped for a few minutes in companionable silence. It occurred to him to wonder why she was here and not down there, enjoying the festival. He felt like he hardly knew Ann, but she seemed like the kind of person who would love this sort of thing. But when he glanced over at her, she was staring off into the distance and frowning.

 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

 

“Yes … well, maybe no,” she said, smiling self-consciously. “I think it’s this”—she swept a hand to indicate the entire festival—“It’s making me a feel a bit lonely, is all. I wanted to get away for a few minutes.”

 

Suddenly he remembered that Ann had just broken up with Chris a few weeks ago and felt like a moron. He nodded sympathetically. “I think I know exactly how you feel,” he said grimly. “All those damned happy couples down there.”

 

She looked over at him inquisitively. “You have someone back in Indianapolis?”

 

“Nope. Perpetually single, that’s me,” he said gloomily, then wondered if he was letting on too much. Should he at least be trying to put up a happy front for Ann? She was Leslie’s friend, after all, so this conversation might get back to Leslie eventually.

 

Nah, screw it. He was leaving in a few days anyway, so what did he care what any of these people thought of him?

 

“It’s settled then,” Ann was saying. “We’re the official Harvest Festival Lonely Hearts Club. First meeting called to order at”—she paused to glance at her watch—“5:52 p.m. Pathetic Loser Time.”

 

And just like that, he realized he liked Ann. Not liked her, like he liked Leslie, but he realized she was a cool person, and he felt at ease with her. “Oh, that’s an official time zone here? That explains a lot,” he said, laughing dryly.

 

“Yeah, well,” Ann said, looking sad again.

 

“You know, for what it's worth, I think you deserve better than him,” he found himself saying.

 

“Why would you think that? We hardly know each other,” she pointed out matter of factly.

 

Good question, Ben thought. Well, for one thing, he knew his partner, and he thought most women deserved better. But it wasn’t just that. “You’re friends with Leslie, and I think that by itself speaks volumes,” he said by way of explanation. "I gotta assume you're a good person."

 

Ann gave him a funny look that he couldn’t quite read. But Ben’s attention was caught elsewhere, as he suddenly spotted the bright gleam of yellow hair in the crowd below. His eyes followed Leslie until he saw her walking up to a tall man, someone who looked vaguely familiar. He watched them greet each other and hug—too familiarly, and for too long, it seemed to him.

 

Ann followed his gaze and then sat up straight. “Oh my God.”

 

“What, you know that guy?” Ben had a terrible sinking feeling, thinking this must be someone important in Leslie’s life for Ann to react like that.

 

“Um, yeah,” Ann said unhappily. “I was almost engaged to that guy. And this is just not what I need today.”

 

“Oh,” was all Ben could say, feeling badly about feeling relieved. “Why almost?” he asked to compensate.

 

Ann shrugged. “Just wasn’t the one, I guess.”

 

It looked like Leslie and the guy were saying goodbye, and the dude leaned down and kissed the top of her head before walking away, sending Ben’s head spinning all over again. And he felt like an idiot, but he couldn’t help himself, he had to ask, “So … he and Leslie … they weren’t …” He trailed off, too flustered to finish the question.

 

And there was that funny look again. “No, not really. There was a little something there, but it was a long time ago. They’re just friends now.”

 

Ben felt simultaneously embarrassed and nauseated, wondering what “a little something” meant but afraid to ask, and Ann punched him lightly on the arm. “Don’t worry. It was a long time ago. Look, Mark was not the guy for me, but he was definitely not the guy for Leslie.”

 

“Okay, thanks,” Ben murmured sheepishly, realizing that Ann was on to him. Well, if Ann already had an idea how Ben felt, it seemed like there was no use trying to hide it now. Maybe this could be useful.

 

“What about Dave, what happened there?” he made himself ask.

 

Ann looked surprised. “You know about Dave?”

 

“Yeah, the police chief mentioned something about them once. Were they serious?”

 

Ann was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes and no. They dated for a few months. He asked her to move with him to California, and she turned him down, so there’s that.”

 

“I guess she’d probably never consider a long-distance thing,” Ben said.

 

“I’m not sure. I think if she had felt more strongly about him, they would have figured out a way to make it work.” She shot him a knowing look. “There’s a big difference between California and Indianapolis, anyway.”

 

“Maybe,” he said frowning, and they were quiet for another few minutes. The thing was, he wasn’t really worried about the physical distance. Maybe he’d put a lot of miles on his car, or maybe he’d try to move here, or maybe they’d figure something else out. But the distance that seemed to be between them the past few weeks, that was what felt like the insurmountable part. It was what she wasn’t saying to him, and what he was having trouble saying to her.

 

Ann broke into his train of thought. “Look, the thing you need to know about Leslie … she’s just not that good at this kind of thing.”

 

“What do you mean, not good at what?”

 

Ann made a face. “I probably shouldn’t meddle. I don’t usually meddle, but to be honest, I’ve had three of these beers in the past hour, so that’s probably why I’m saying things I shouldn’t say.”

 

Ben stared at her in disbelief. “Well, don’t stop now! For God’s sake, meddle. If you know something, you have to tell me.” Did that sound as pathetic and desperate as he felt? Forget it, he didn’t even care.

 

“It’s just that, I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I’ve seen the way she looks at you, but—”

 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “There’s a way she looks at me?”

 

Ann was still talking. “—Leslie’s just Leslie, and I love her, but she is so bad at this kind of thing, and I kind of get the impression you might be the same way, so—”

 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Leslie’s what way?”

 

“Um, how to explain this. Leslie’s … well, she’s oblivious to signals, for one thing, and she can’t flirt to save her life. She’s practically phobic about first dates …”

 

Ben’s mind was racing. Could he have been reading her all wrong? “Phobic? How so?”

 

“Well, here, let me give you an example. When Dave first asked her out, she was so freaked out that I took her out on a practice date. You know, like I pretended to be Dave? And she was so nervous, she actually brought notecards!” Ann started laughing.

 

Thud, went his heart. “Notecards?” he squeaked out.

 

“Yeah, with conversation topics. Let me see if I can remember some of them … whales, I think, was one of them?”

 

He almost spit out the beer in his mouth. “Whales?”

 

“Yeah, whales, I know,” Ann said, giggling, totally missing the reason for his reaction. “And I think one of them was electricity … ”

 

Ben was still struggling to wrap his head over what this meant. It could explain so much about that night. He had been sure she just didn’t want to be there, that she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

 

“I’m sorry. Is this totally freaking you out, Ben?”

 

“What? No. Not at all.” Actually, now that he knew what it meant, he found it incredibly endearing. There's nothing like learning the girl of your dreams isn't perfect to boost a guy's confidence. “So she’s just really bad at dates, huh?”

 

Beside him, Ann had finally stopped giggling. “I think it depends how into the guy she is, actually. The more she likes you, the worse it’s going to be. It’s really just first dates, though, so if you can get through that, she’s a really, really great person.”

 

“I know she is,” he said, almost inaudibly. He felt ten times lighter than he had when Ann first sat down next to him. As he looked for Leslie’s pink shirt in the crowd, a slow smile spread across his face.

 

Ann finally noticed his goofy expression. “What, what is it?”

 

“It’s just … I’ve seen that ‘whales’ notecard. Figuratively speaking. And I just didn’t know what it meant until now.”

 

Ann grinned back and punched him in the arm again. “Go to her, my friend.” And when he hesitated, she shoved him hard, so that he started to stumble down the hill. “Go, go!” Ann yelled, and he took off toward the crowd.

 

When he finally found Leslie, he was out of breath, his heart was beating fast, and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to do this. She seemed startled by his slightly crazed appearance. “Ben, what is it? Did something happen?”

 

He grinned at her and sucked in a deep breath. “Nope, nothing happened. Everything’s great actually. I just need to talk to you for a moment.”

 

Leslie smiled at him curiously, then glanced at her watch. “Okay, I’ve got a few minutes before I need to announce Mouse Rat. What is it?”

 

“Not here.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along, looking for someplace they could escape the crowd. She laughed nervously but followed, not letting go of his hand. Quickly he darted between two food trailers.

 

“This’ll have to do,” he said, as he backed her against the side of one of the trailers and moved in close. She was smiling uncertainly up at him, and the second he looked into her eyes, he realized that Ann was right. There was definitely something there.

 

“Ben, what are you …” But he didn’t let her finish before he bent his head down to hers, and it was one of the most grateful moments of his life when she realized what he was doing and met him halfway. He kissed her softly for a few seconds before he had to break away because he couldn’t stop smiling.

 

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that, and I just couldn’t wait a second longer,” he said quietly, running his fingers down the side of her face.

 

Leslie looked dazed and happy but confused. “But I thought … you weren’t … you didn’t seem like …”

 

He laughed gently. “Leslie, I think you should know, I am really hideously terrible at first dates.”

 

Realization dawned on her face, lighting her up like the sun. “I suck at them too,” she said, and this time she kissed him.

 

He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew this wasn’t the time or place for a full makeout session, so he pulled back again reluctantly. “Are you any better at second dates? Because incidentally, I am much better at second dates.”

 

She giggled. “Me too! This is such a coincidence.”

 

“Okay, well then, I’m going to pick you up tomorrow night at 7, and we’re going to do this right.”

 

“I’ll wear a dress this time,” she said, playing with the collar of his shirt.

 

“Ann was wrong about you,” he murmured into her hair. “If this is you flirting, you are very good at it.”

 

“Wait, Ann said what?”

 

“I’ll tell you later,” he said, pulling her back out into the open. “You better get going. This is your day.”

 

She ran off into the crowd, turning around once to blow him a kiss. He smiled after her, feeling like the luckiest guy on the planet. Then when Leslie had completely disappeared, he raised his eyes to the hill where Ann was now leaning against his tree and, feeling like a dork but not caring, gave her a triumphant thumbs up.


End file.
